


Sun Meet Saturn

by Saxophone



Series: Saturn and the Sun [1]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saxophone/pseuds/Saxophone
Summary: Killjoy meets his match.





	1. Low Orbit

"Come here often? Because I don't"  
You're lounging on an oversized air conditioning unit, watching the figure before you. They're tall, taller than you anyway. To your disappointment they don't spin around or start at your voice. Huh. No fun in prodding them if they're not gonna react. 

You let out an airy sigh. You know who they are, of course. You've seen the news stories plastered around the city.  
"God of Los Diablos, right? That's what they call you?" 

The figure apparently, deems you worthy of his time as he finally turns. The armor vaguely reminds you of a knight, the helm ending in a sort of twisted crown. No use reading an expression off of it, but you imagine he's sneering. You're still lounging like cat, you almost wish he could see the lazy smile plastered to your face. 

"Don't look much like a god." you purr, slowly sitting up, leaning your head on your hand. 

The figure stiffens immediately and you have to fight back a snicker. The arrogant ones are always the easiest to piss off.

"Calm down my fiery friend, I don't want a fight." You laugh, it's a lie but that's the point. You wonder how annoying your voice modulator is at this moment.

Apollo doesn't relax but he does take several imposing steps towards you, and you make sure not to react. 

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?" His voice modulator turns his words into a low growl.

"Oh!" You clasp your hands together "I have lots of names, but you can call me Killjoy." 

He's getting closer and your eyes flick to the rifle you have stashed on the ledge below and behind you. Your real purpose for coming to this roof top. 

You count the seconds till the figure reaches you and when he's three steps out you tip backwards. You hands find the rifle like a magnet as you land silently on the ledge you stashed it. You risk a glance up and find that Apollo isn't quite reckless enough to look for you. Or he doesn't care. He probably doesn't care. 

Its a light effort to silently clamber back onto your prior perch, and leap back onto the air conditioning unit. Your sudden appearance manages to actually startle Apollo, or maybe it's the oversized gun elegantly slung across your back that you seemingly pulled from nowhere. Yeah it's probably the gun. You stand to you full height, which isn't exactly impressive compared to the man in front of you, but you are, thanks to the air conditioning unit, taller than him. 

"Sorry love, didn't mean to interrupt but otherwise I would've forgotten." Apollo's right in front of you and you’re looming over him like a tree bending in the wind, so maybe you should've been expecting the tackle. You don't resist, mainly out of curiosity but you'd also like to think from self preservation. 

In seconds he has you pinned, arms above your head and oh my god, does he have any clue how this looks? 

"Kinky." you manage to garble out despite having the wind knocked out of you. Almost immediately his claws are at your throat, fighting through your oversized scarf. Idiot. He just freed you hands.

You could pull a knife, or your revolver but how boring. Instead you hook your fingers beneath his helmet, guessing how it seals. He realizes too late what your about to do right before you kick him for leverage and roll backwards with all your might. 

The seals break with a horrific, explosive hiss as you almost go tumbling off the side of the building, Apollo's helm firmly in your hands. You manage to scramble to your feet, laughter bubbling through your distorter. 

"Why, hello, hello." you sing song at the unmasked man before you, rage is written clear on his face, along with a vicious snarl. 

You toss the helm lightly in your hand.  
"You should always watch the hands, you know." 

He's glaring daggers at you. All hate and malice and indignance.  
You give him a snort "Apollo. You know Zeus made him mortal once, right?"

You laugh before pelting the helmet straight at his face, you don't bother watching to see if he catches it (you really hope he doesn’t). You give him a half assed salute as you step backwards over the edge. 

By the time Apollo jams his helm back on and is looking over the edge, you're gone.


	2. Dead Orbit

Shit.   
You're scrabbling for a grip as you scramble your way over the rooftop, your boots sending grit flying. Apollo is hard on your heels. You're almost impressed at how well he caught you off guard. You'd been so careful until now. But you know better then anyone, all it takes is one slip up. The wolf only needs to catch you once. 

You take a risky leap, rolling as you pop up on the other side of a chasm between two high rises. You don't bother looking to see if he followed, you can hear him. Could you take him? With your rifle, no question, but up close? You have a revolver on your hip and a bandelier full of knives so. Probably. But still, you'd rather not engage if you don't have to.

And then it happens. Your metal soles lose traction in the grit and you face plant straight into the rooftop.  
Fuck.   
You make an extremely brief mental note that you might need better boots before turning over onto your back. The wolf has caught you.

You scramble backwards as Apollo looms over you, thematically sticking to your wolf imagery, how kind of him.  
Shit shit shit.  
Your teeth grind in the effort to keep your cool. There's always a way out, just have to be clever enough to find it. Your eyes flick to the various weapons strapped to your form. Might be time to find out how stab proof your new friend is. 

He's growling, literally growling at you and at this point you think he must somehow know about your wolf analogies. 

You allow yourself a few seconds of floundering before you force a lazy smile on your face, and cross your arms under you head, stretching out in Apollo's shadow.   
"Looks like you caught me." you purr. Yup, you're just going to ignore that the reason he caught you was because you face planted.

"You tripped." Aaand he's not. Naturally. 

You wink at him, and your helmet mimics the expression   
"How do you know I didn't do it on purpose?"

And you're pinned, literally. Apollo's helm is inches from your own. And oh this time he's smart, watches your hands, too bad you have a face. You brace your hands against the floor, twisting them in Apollo's grip as you brace the rest of your body and launch yourself forward. There's a horrible crack as you slam you helm into his and immediately stun yourself. 

You fall stupidly back onto the floor, too disoriented to attempt escape. He laughs, pressing your wrists down harder. The laughing grates against your nerves and you squirm beneath him. 

Fuck. That usually works. Your HUDs flickering in and out. You should've expected his armor would be a better make than yours.   
You taste blood. You must've bit your tongue. You open your eyes to take in the full extent of damage, ignoring the asshole currently pinning you like a museum specimen. 

Your glitching HUD informs you that your vitals are fine. They won't be soon.   
Basic systems are green but electronics in your HUD are not. Obviously. You don't need a systems check to see that. You can see hairline fractures spiderwebbing their away across your view and you groan. Fixing this will be a pain in the ass. Your HUDs glitching so bad you can barely see out of it, which considering your current position, is not ideal.

That's when you feel claws at your throat, sliding around the base of your helmet. You freeze, going rigid, breath hitching.  
Fuck this. You're not getting your throat torn out by some idiot who--  
Your HUD screams that the seals on your helmet are being breached. Shit. He's getting you back. 

He takes the helmet off leisurely, like he has all the time in the world, which, considering the circumstances, you guess he does. Well on the bright side, it gives you time to school your expression into something that doesn’t scream “I fucked up”. 

By the time the helmets off you've managed to force a sharp sort of smile and hike an eyebrow up in what you hope reads as a sardonic sort of expression.

"Like what you see?" You grin but you’re still debating on whether or not you should spit blood in his face. Helm. Mask. Whatever. At least you can see again. 

Claws still at your throat, way too close to your face then you'd ever be comfortable with. He's still watching your hands, because he sees you inching for your six shooter. Could you kick him off? Yeah right, he's got an entire foot on you at least, not to mention you are in prime strangle position. 

"You know, I feel like I'm the only one holding this conversation." You shift slightly, your rifle is digging uncomfortably into your back. Much to your frustration Apollo remains silent and if there’s one thing you hate, it’s silence. 

You swallow, throat clicking and nod at his helmet “Least you could do is even the playing field a bit.”   
More like open up your options, headbutts are way more effective when no one is wearing a helmet. Well, actually they’re most effective when you’re wearing a helmet and no one else is, but still. You’ve broken noses enough times with just your skull. 

More silence. Fuck, what is this dudes problem. Does he think it’s imposing? It’s annoying. Sitting and waiting for a target is more entertaining than whatever this shit is. Time to swing for the hornets nest. 

“Listen asshole, I appreciate the weird sexual tension thing you got going, but I’m getting bored. So either kill me or don’t.”  
You keep the stupid smile on your face because the alternative is a snarl.

"We can't be having that." He actually purrs the last bit out, a feat you thought impossible due to his vocal distorter and you struggle to not roll your eyes. Unfortunately you're not nearly as successful when it comes to preventing a flinch as he grazes his claws along your jawline and he fucking laughs.

Claws leave your face to slip under his helm and your smile becomes so much sharper. Time to show your teeth. As soon as his view his obstructed your hand finds your discarded helmet. You slip your hand around it's interior edge, trying to maneuver it as discreetly as possible. You feel bad using it as a bludgeon again after already damaging it but grabbing one of your actual weapons would draw his attention. 

Your eyes flick back to Apollo's face, now helmetless. He's watching you with, amusement maybe? Shit. Did he see you do that? Whatever. As soon as his face is in hitting range you make your move, though you wish you had more space to work with. You snap your arm towards his face, intending to crack the helmet across his head. There's a split second where you're sure it's going to hit but Apollo slips just outside of your constricted arc, grabbing your arm on the down swing.

He looks extremely unimpressed, but amused "Was that supposed to work?"

You grin at him, showing all your teeth. "No, but this will." You rocket towards him, he has you sitting up now, giving you so much more leverage. The crown of you skull connects with the bridge of his nose and you're free. He's fallen backwards, stunned and clutching his face, blood streaming between his gloved fingers. 

You click your tongue at him as you beat a hasty retreat "Sorry mate, but I'm not that easy." You give him another of your mock salutes and a wink before dropping the smoke grenade in your hand. By the time the wind has ripped the miasma to shreds, you're gone.


	3. By the Skin of Your Teeth

“KILLJOY. YOU BETTER RUN WHILE YOU CAN, RABBIT. IF I CATCH YOU AGAIN YOU'RE DEAD.” The storefront TV garbles the newsreel of Apollo’s latest threat and you pause to watch it as you walk by. You fail to stop the snicker, but luckily the streets are practically deserted thanks to the steady rain, so there's no one left to stare. The reel repeats and you turn to continue your travels, hands shoved into you pockets, and hood pulled up against the rain. 

Hah. So much for being the God of Los Diablos. You’ve been leading Apollo on a cat and mouse chase of your own making for weeks now. Leading him in circles with calling cards and tagged buildings, egging him on when necessary. You’ve escalated it so far that now you’re not sure how to deescalate it now that it’s hitting the “probably lethal” mark. Eh. Whatever. You’ll be fine as long as the wolf doesn’t catch you. 

You sigh and glance up at the rain, eyes traveling to the cars creeping past you. Walking everywhere has its downsides on days like these. You’re almost too absorbed in your thoughts to catch the person staring at you from across the street and through the curtain of rain, almost. You only catch brief glance of their face before a truck obscures your view, but it only takes a glimpse for your blood to run cold. Stupid. Why did you let him see your face? You should’ve expected this, should've seen it coming, especially with your luck. By the time the truck passes the figures gone, and you're wheeling around to the nearest alley. Need to get away. You’re running now, splashing through puddles and skidding on wet cement. The rains coming down so hard now you can barely see, you keep having to mop it out of your eyes. It’s relentless hammering matches the beat of your heart. A chain link fence towers above you and you scale it without missing a beat, hitting the ground running on the other side. You’re not sure how long you run for, twisting your way through the back alleys of the city in a mad dash, doubling back in meandering, nonsensical routes, trying to lose a pursuer you’re not even sure you have. 

So now you find yourself gasping for breath, leaning against the wall of a dark alleyway. It’s still raining, you’re soaked to the bone. You run a hand through dripping hair. You don’t even know if he actually saw you, you’re being paranoid, and there's no way he could've followed you. Right? He had trouble keeping up with you as Apollo, there’s no way he would've been able to without an exo suit. You groan and slide to the ground, this is what you get for showing another villain your face. At least he doesn’t know your name. 

“You know, you’re gonna catch a cold like that.”

You freeze at the sudden voice, but you can't make out their details through the rain. They hoist an umbrella over your sitting form and you shoot them a wry grin “Bit late for that I’m afraid.”  
You freeze when their features come into view and the smile dies a cold hard death on your face, because fuck. 

“Caught you rabbit.” He grins down at you, all sharp teeth and menacing smile. 

For a second, your flight or fight instinct flounders with itself before landing on your most base instinct. You rocket to your feet in seconds, launching yourself at the man in front of you with a snarl. He wasn’t expecting that, he’d thought you’d run again. He’s a full foot taller than you but that doesn’t matter, you’ve been fighting people taller than you you’re entire life. You know how make the mighty fall. You both tumble to the rain soaked ground, except this time you’re the one on top. You have one hand on his face, turning it away from you, forcing him to bear his throat. 

Your teeth are inches from his throat “You know, hares have a nasty bite.”

“Go on.” He’s grinning at you. 

Fucking hell. 

You sit up, glaring down at him “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Oh, and what mood would that be?”

“I’m shooting you next time.” You scowl, anger almost completely dissipated now. 

He sits up with a start, knocking you backwards onto the ground. Great. You just traded places again. 

“You know, you keep saying that.”

“Don’t make me break your nose again.”

“Really living up to the whole Killjoy motif, huh?”

“I’m counting to 3.”

“1.”

“You have a name besides KIlljoy, rabbit?”

“Fuck you.”

“Cute.”

You don’t bother counting the rest of the way as you rocket your head towards Apollo’s face, you strike his forehead with your own, not hard enough to break anything, just to stun. While he’s reeling you roll out of his grip and back onto your feet.

“I’m taking the umbrella.”  
He doesn’t stop you as you take off in the other direction, umbrella bobbing in the rain.


	4. Don't Make Bets you Can't Win

You're blinking stupidly at Apollo, glad that the only part of your expression visible is the wide eyes the LED screen on you helmet mimics. Your digital eyes blink with your real ones.  
"I'm sorry, what." 

You know he's probably smirking under that stupid horned helmet. "You heard me."

Does he realize you're holding a gun capable of cleaving him in two? Yeah, that's probably part of the problem.

You consider him for a moment before an idea pops into your head. Might as well give him a chance, this is definitely the most interesting way anybodies ever vied for your attention. 

"Okay, how about a game then?"

"You like those, huh?" 

You breathe out through your nose "I'm going to elect to ignore that comment for now."

You scan your surroundings quickly, looking for a target in close enough range Apollo could easily spot it. Your eyes land on a flag flapping in the breeze on the roof of the building next to yours. You point to it. "I hit that flag, you fuck off. I miss, you win." 

"And what do I win?"

"You set your own winning terms." 

Apollo laughs "That's a lot of power."

"What can I say, I'm feeling generous today." You give him a toothy grin he can't see, because you don't make bets you can't win. And you never miss.

You turn your attention back towards your rifle, lining your sights up. It only takes a few seconds, it's an easy shot. You're finger hovers over the blade of the trigger for a half second before you click it down and the recoil bites into your shoulder. Your helmet immediately dampens the concussive bark of the rifle. 

An awkward silence fills in between the two of you. You're frozen in place, finger still bent crooked around the trigger 

"You mi--"

"I can see that!" you bite back. 

Shit. You really do have bad luck.


End file.
